


Two Motives for Murder

by DivineMissP



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineMissP/pseuds/DivineMissP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All's fair in love and war... eventually</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His for hers

"Don't touch it, Collins!"

Jack sighed and modified his tone to one a little less harsh as the Constable's hand made a hasty retreat from the broken, shiny object. "It's close enough to our scene that we shouldn't discount its relevance, and we might be able to get a print off that surface…"

"Yes Sir!" Collins nodded enthusiastically at his boss. "Uh, Sir… I mean… it's too hot today, I don't have my gloves… Will a hanky do?... Uh, a clean one… of course! My mother does a fresh one for me every day when she starches my collar…"

Jack tried not to roll his eyes. "Yes, Constable, I'm sure that your clean hanky will do the trick…" He turned his head and raised an eyebrow expectantly at Hugh, who jumped to his feet beside him, and put his hands into his pockets.

After a few moments of rummaging in confusion he stammered, "Uh… sorry, Sir… I don't… uh… I must have dropped it somewhere, Sir…"

This time Jack did send his eyes skywards. "Not to worry, Collins, I'm sure we can make do with mine…"

His left hand held onto the lapel of his suit jacket as his right reached into the front inside pocket for his handkerchief.

As they closed around the material, his fingers registered that something was not quite right; but, unfortunately, his brain did not process the information before he had completed the action, and he removed it from his pocket with a flourish.

'It' not being his handkerchief.

'It', instead, being something black and silky, and although small, definitely an article of clothing.

Before he had even realised what he was doing, he had hooked each of his forefingers into the waistband and pulled the offending garment taut, revealing the scantiest pair of French knickers he had ever seen – which was saying something, given the number he had borne witness to during the last few months as Phryne's 'companion'.

And yet, he had never seen any like these – scraps of lace-edged silk, dark and shiny as a crow's feather, and trimmed with tiny red bows down each side.

If it had not already been obvious to whom they belonged, they had been embroidered, also in red, with a 'P' that would sit at the crease where the owner's right leg met her hip, and a 'J' for the left. Between and below them was the outline of a love heart, approximately an inch high.

It seemed unlikely that the heart was in that position by chance. If Jack were to place the pad of his thumb in that outline, he was sure that he would be pressing right against her–

That thought was cut short by Collins' shocked intake of breath – as he realised what (and whose) the article was – which then turned into a choking fit of sorts.

Jack balled the material up in his fist, hastily shoving it into his trouser pocket, and closing his eyes briefly; before clearing his throat and addressing his red-faced, spluttering colleague.

"Well, Collins… it would seem that neither of us is in possession of a handkerchief today… I'll just…" He gestured towards the car and turned quickly on his heel, giving each man an opportunity to compose themselves.

As he walked he breathed in and out deeply, and tried to wish away the tingling heat that had spread across his features and as far as the tips of his ears.

He had no doubt that she had never meant her prank to be played out in public – even *she* had more respect for their professional appearances than that… And although the incident was highly embarrassing, it was not as if Collins would understand the strategically placed heart…

Nonetheless, he was going to kill her…


	2. Hers for his

Phryne smiled brightly as she sailed past the front desk and towards Jack's office door. "Hallo Hugh!"

The poor boy looked particularly bug-eyed this afternoon, and she felt a surge of affection for the hapless Constable as he began to choke on his tea. She came around and gave him a few thumps on the back, but it only seemed to make things worse, and he'd gone awfully red, so when a Sergeant appeared with a glass of water, she thought it best to leave them to it. After all, she was aware that such things sometimes seemed to happen to men in her presence.

She couldn't wait to see Jack. She had actually come earlier and been told that the Inspector and Constable Collins had been called out to a body (which her further enquiries had deemed a rather boring one, as far as she was concerned), so she had gone to do a little shopping before returning.

Now she was absolutely aquiver. *Surely* he would have discovered her substitution by now; after all, other than its intended purpose, he used his handkerchief for any number of reasons during a day – wiping ink from his fingers or the barrel of his pen, removing greasy fingerprints from his telephone handset…

It just remained to be seen whether he would play the game.

He looked up as she swept into his office, and stood almost immediately. "Miss Fisher…"

He moved to the door connecting his office with the Interview Room hallway, closing it and locking it swiftly.

She breathed in excitedly, taking his actions as her cue, and doing the same to the anterior door, before turning to him with the most neutral expression she could muster.

He resumed his chair and fixed her with a stern expression. "Is it possible that you have *misplaced* something?"

She came around the desk, taking her usual perch as she batted her eyelashes at him. "Whatever do you mean, Inspector?"

"Well… imagine my surprise when *this* appeared instead of my handkerchief… when I went to retrieve it *at a crime scene*… as *Collins* couldn't locate his…"

She goggled at him for a moment ( _At a scene! Uh oh… and that would explain Hugh's behaviour_ ) before regaining her composure, as he pulled the black knickers from his pocket. "Fancy that…! But whatever makes you think they're mine?"

He held them up for her to inspect in much the same fashion as he had done earlier for himself, and she made a show of reading the embroidery. " _P loves J_ … How sweet!" She leaned down towards him and batted her eyelashes once again. "Well, you know what they say, Jack… 'If the shoe fits', and all that…"

He tilted his head in acknowledgement, and she stood upright, catching her skirt and hiking it up to reveal stockings that were roll-gartered just above her knees, then much higher again so that a dark thatch of curls was just revealed between her creamy thighs – oh yes, she had come prepared.

Phryne saw Jack swallow thickly, and she briefly wondered if he were angry, before he lifted his smouldering gaze to meet hers. _Ah hah! The game was still afoot_. She watched him through hooded eyes as he leaned down, and she obediently lifted each foot so that he could slide the silk over her shoes, up her legs, and around her hips.

She breathed slowly as his thumbs moved under the lace hems and swept up the diagonal creases they found there, to her hip bones, and back again; then back and around to cup her buttocks. His eyes were locked with hers as he kneaded them gently, before releasing them.

"They appear to be a perfect fit, _Miss Fisher_ … Don't you think so?"

Phryne gasped involuntarily as his thumb pressed firmly into the outline of the heart, straight into her throbbing bundle of nerves; as, of course, had been her intention in having it placed there – but still, it was a pleasant shock.

"Uh hmmm…" She closed her eyes as he made a couple of gentle circles within the heart, then stroked his thumb down between her legs.

" _Although_ …" he continued, "perhaps they could do with a little adjustment… _here_ …"

She closed her eyes as the fingers of both of his hands crept under the hems, and ventured into the curls beneath.

She soon found herself incapable of coherent thought, as his clever fingers kept up their ministrations, and she put a hand out to steady herself on his desk.

She was panting now, and he withdrew his fingers, instead smoothing them down the silk front, again and again, her slick wetness spreading through the fabric with every stroke. The build-up within her core was delicious, and she knew something even more wonderful was coming when Jack's intense eyes met hers once again.

He smoothed the fabric once more, then his hands gripped both of her hips, and his head bent forward so that his nose brushed the embroidered heart.

She moaned, and his tongue flicked out to gently probe the spot where his nose had been a moment before, manipulating her tip through the silk, and making her legs tremble.

… Again, with slightly more pressure…

God… the things this man could do to her… She was so close… Two or three more times and she would fall apart, right here in his office…

She panted his name; and suddenly he leaned back, releasing her so that her skirt fell back to its rightful place. She watched him in confusion as he stood abruptly and moved around her, collecting his hat; then in disbelief as he unlocked and opened the hallway door, followed by the anterior door.

"Collins! If you've finished your pie we have a witness to interview… Let's go…"

Phryne stared at her lover, absolutely dumbstruck. How could he do this to her? She knew her little trick had not turned out quite the way she had planned, but still…

He turned and smirked at her. "Are you *coming* Miss Fisher?"

Yes, she was going to kill him…

_The End xo_


End file.
